


Untitled Supernatural DMS Crossover *Updated 4/17/17*

by H3C70R



Category: Joe Ledger Series - Jonathan Maberry, Supernatural
Genre: Supernatural - Freeform, Upierczi, Work In Progress, dms, vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 22:43:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9570002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/H3C70R/pseuds/H3C70R
Summary: The DMS are hunting what they believe to be a nest of Upierczi, The Winchesters are hunting what they know is a nest of Vampires.   This is obviously the same place I'm talking about.  A deal between Upierczi and Vampires is being brokered in the shadows, mixing their bloodlines to the benefit of both.*Small Update 4/17/17*





	

Ch. 1

VFW Hall  
Lansdale, PA  
03:35AM

I had myself, the rest of Echo Team, and all of Jackal Team on standby. A nest of Upierczi in our crosshairs.

They had a nice gig going here, owned the bar, every once in a while a patron disappears under mysterious circumstances. Always after they've left and gotten someplace nice and dark. We don't know if they're trying for breeding stock or something new and more sinister. These guys don't drink blood for nourishment. That's the invention of popular fiction based on their bastardized genetics. For fun, sure, they have a laugh about it, but Dracula they are not.

A voice spoke quietly through my earpiece, as long as I've been with the DMS I'm still not used to the audio quality on these things. It's like someone sneaked up on me, whispering in my ear,

"Cowboy, two unidentified males, back kitchen entrance, human."

The ever efficient word usage of Echo Team's resident sniper John Smith.

"Copy Chatterbox. Warbride and Green Giant, head to their location but hang back. If they try to go in, bag 'em, quietly. Chatterbox, things go south down there, you know what to do."

all three responded in tandem,

"Hoo-ah."

I stayed with Top out front. The last patron left about twenty minutes ago, if they come out to go hunting, they're gonna have to go through hell first. I tapped my ear bud to Church's private channel. On the slim chance these idiots were in the know about what's actually in that bar, he may have some insight.

"Cowboy to Deacon, these guys anyone we know?"

once again, no static, just a crystal clear voice a millimeter from my eardrum. Fucking unnerving,

"I have a suspicion yes. I've got Bug running the surveillance camera footage in real time. If we get a face match he will let you know."

Always one step ahead, guess that's why he's the boss and I'm out here with my dick in my hand, waiting for some super-strong psuedo-vampire motherfuckers to come out here and soak up a few bullets. Switched back to the team channel with another tap on my earbud,

"Green Giant, Warbride, what's your status?"

A pause, no answer. I didn't hear anything go down, what were they doing?

"Cowboy to Green Giant and Warbride. Status. Now."

still a pause, but Bunny's voice started to come through,

"Cowboy, this is weird. They're parked out back, the guy driving, who if I didn't know better I'd say is your long lost brother, opened up the trunk, pulled out two machetes, two bandoliers packed with syringes... That look like they're filled with blood. Oh, now they're picking out sidearms and sawed off shotguns. These guys mean business."

Great, these two dingbats are now heavily armed, and not for the battle they're walking into.

"Advance on them, slowly, don't get hurt, but don't kill 'em either."

It was already too late, the very distinct sound of a door being kicked in rattled out from the building and into the trees behind me.

"Cowboy, they went in hot. Orders?"

Before I could answer, Bug was in my earpiece

"Cowboy, we need those two alive, the big man's orders. They are to be brought back to the Warehouse for questioning."

Great.

"Warbride, Green Giant, inside now, keep those two fucksticks out of harms way and take care of anything else in there that moves. Sergeant Rock, you're with me in the front. Jackal Team and Chatterbox, take care of anything that tries to get out."

"Hoo-ah!"

We descended on the place with precision, and an odd kind of grace. Our movements as rehearsed as they are efficient.

The remaining doors were all kicked in, first thing Top and I see is two pasty looking dudes with a mouth full of shark teeth staring us down.

I put two garlic dipped bullets into each of their chests.

Nothing happened. Top's voice said what I was thinking,

"Cowboy, what the fuck."

I didn't turn to look at him, but I responded,

"No idea. Garlic doesn't work, let's see what buckshot can do."

Top swung Bunny's old drum-fed shotgun, 'Honey Boom Boom', around from his back and took both of their heads clean off. We fast-walked further into the bar, we could hear muffled commotion from the back.

"Sergeant Rock, before you made ground beef over there, I noticed something. No red eyes. They had the fangs, but normal eyes, normal hair, and they were pasty sure, but not Upierczi pasty."

Top nodded as we made our way further towards the kitchen through the dining area,

"Did make note of that Captain, and the garlic not working. I wonder if we're the ones with the wrong gear?"

I couldn't help but smile and pat the shotgun in his hands,

"Not as long as she's got plenty of ammo."

Finally at the double doors, the commotion seemed to have calmed down, I had hoped it was a good thing. It wasn't.

I pushed my way through the big plastic doors pistol first, my wrist was immediately grabbed and my world became a sick carnival ride. I was tangled up in some kind of improvised arm lock and brought down to ground with a knee in my back. I couldn't see it, but I could hear it, and it sounded like Top had gone down too. As I tried to wriggle free the guy who had Top subdued shouted across the room.

"Sammy! Anyone else coming from that way?!"

The guy, whose knee was giving a few old battle scars a real workout, sighed pretty audibly before responding in a clear but hushed tone.

"I don't think so Dean, but if anyone else IS here, they definitely know where to find us now."

Sam and Dean, I'll have to remember that. Time to get in on this conversation.

"Hey, Sam, what's with the machetes and stage blood? Halloween party or something?"

Another nasally sigh, this dude just really doesn't want to be dealing with me and my team right now, well fuck you buddy, I don't feel like dealing with your shit either.

"If you don't already know then you wouldn't understand, we're not gonna kill you, I promise."

The balls on this guy,

"Yeah, not worried about that last part sport, but, I know garlic is supposed to cause anaphylactic shock and swell their windpipes right up. It sure did a whole lot of nothing instead."

Without even a consideration that I may have just blown his mind,

"Garlic, cute."

Dean had Top cuffed to a drainpipe, same one he had Lydia on. Must have used their own cuffs. Who the hell was I dealing with right now? I know this Sam guy on my back has a height advantage, but I am in about six different new kinds of pain. I don't think the hold he has me in is meant for humans.

"Alright Sammy, lets get G.I. Joke over here cuffed to something, make sure he can't use his hand though, saw the chick over there tapping her ear before I took her down. Some kind of communication device."

No sigh but I could feel the annoyance in the shift in his body language,

"Yeah, I got it. I did already take down Andre the Giant over there myself."

They weren't telling me anything useful, time to butt in again,

"Hey guys before you cu-mmphhmphnmmph"

Duct tape, that's why the other two didn't try to warn us. These guys are pretty good.

My earpiece came alive again at a very inopportune moment,

"Cowboy, this is Deacon, get Dean's attention."

I couldn't respond, so I just kicked my leg out a bunch. Sam tried to get me to stop, but Church said Dean, so I kept flailing like an idiot,

"Dean? Little help here?"

Dean came over, and ripped the tape off my mouth, like his idiot compadre couldn't figure out to do,

"What do you want."

Not really framed as a question, but at least my mouth was un-taped. The voice in my earpiece started again,

"Tell him to take your earpiece out and use it himself."

I had no idea where this was going, but, I didn't really have a choice other than to play along,

"My boss wants you to take out my earpiece and use it yourself. I guess he has something he wants you to hear."

He recoiled at the idea,

"Dude. Gross, and probably just some ruse to get me up in your business and bite my nose off or whatever. I know how you spec-ops guys work."

Good eye, he nailed that one right on the head. Wonder if these guys were ex-operators or something. My gut is still leaning pretty hard on the 'or something' option.

And I totally would bite his nose off if given the chance, but that wasn't what I was ordered to do. Church was in my ear again.

"Tell him they and I have a mutual friend, Bobby Singer."

Sure, why not.

"My boss says you and him have a mutual friend. Bobby Singer."

before I even finished that sentence, Church gave me further clarification,

"And he knows Bobby is a hunter, you guys too, Sam and Dean Winchester."

They looked at each other, and they looked pissed. Dean pulled his machete back out and crouched down so he was at my level.

"How about I cut your fucking head off for even knowing who Bobby is, and who we are-"

A subtle grin formed onto his lips, standing back up he started gesticulating with the machete half towards me and half towards Sam,

"-Just gonna be a few more vamps. Really a shame you got bit during the raid. No way we could save you. We had to do it."

He raised his arm above his head, bringing it down with a venomous fury, burying the blade into the wooden prep table I was cuffed to, only about an inch from my face. He took the earpiece and put it in his ear.

"You see how I respond to funny business Chuckles? Time for you to spill the beans about, whatever, is going on here."

As composed as ever, Church responded,

"You are not cleared on that topic, but you have knowledge that could aide in my organizations dealings. You are also surrounded. Two teams were sent to that bar. Once you took out half of the first one, the second one entered the building and waited quietly, per my orders."

Dean chuckled,

"You gotta be shittin' me. You think I'm gonna believe th-"

He was cut off by four laser sights clicking on, two on himself, and two on Sam. Church spoke into the earpiece again.

"You will go quietly, with team two, or you will go nowhere. If you make it outside, there is still a sniper who will definitely kill one of you, my money would be on both. That is not hyperbole. Are we understood."

Sam and Dean both decided they liked being alive, so they went quietly. Two members of Jackal team cuffed them and brought them out to an armored van, the other two went about un-cuffing and un-taping a severely embarrassed Echo Team.

Everyone stood up and cracked the bones that needed cracking and tried to stretch out their aching muscles. Bunny was the first one to speak,

"Told you boss, dude could have been your brother."

I thought about it for a second,

"Yeah actually, me in a different life even."

Lydia laughed,

"yeah, but that lanky dude took your ass down good. I want him on OUR team."

Top interjected,

"They both seem pretty handy, and Church knows who they are, this could get interesting pretty quick."

We all murmured agreement. The bodies of some kind of Upierczi Lite surrounded us. All their heads taken clean off, a few with large sucking wounds with those damned syringes sticking out of them. Those two took down whatever these things are damn quick. I still want to murder both of them, but maybe I'd rather see them get eaten by a monster in the field than do it personally. Who knows.

  
  
Ch. 2

The Warehouse  
Baltimore, MD  
8:28AM

It had been about a two hour drive from that bar in Pennsylvania to wherever the hell we're at now. I didn't know what time it actually was, but I'd guess Dean and I had been in this interrogation room for another two hours or so.

Dean already passed out, told me to wake him up when something important happened. They have to be watching us, they're smart enough to know I'm not going to do more than blink until someone gets in here and does whatever they're going to do. we're pretty used to sleeping in shifts, and not very long ones at that.

They had the Impala, so they must have seen all the crazy shit in the trunk: the devil's trap, the wooden stakes dipped in various kinds of blood, holy oil, hundreds of pounds of firearms and ammunition, just, so much salt. Up front you've got your medley of felonies, the fake credit cards, the fake ID's, about a dozen prepaid cellphones and a couple better phones bought and paid monthly under fake names.

Not to mention that cardboard box of awful 80's cassettes. Those alone should be grounds for the death penalty.

If they wanted to arrest us they had more than enough evidence, not to mention at least aggravated assault charges for taking down those four soldiers.

And that's the other weird thing. They obviously aren't cops, not with the gear they were lugging, and no one has a two hour drive to their local precinct. Why was the military staging an operation against a nest of vampires in suburban Pennsylvania, and sending troops from... wherever this is?

None of this makes any sense. It would be nice to have Dean's opinion on the topic, but he's useless to the world for at least another hour.

 

The Warehouse  
Baltimore, MD  
9:03AM

The great Joe Ledger once again on bitch duty.

The least I could do was make it interesting.

I opened the door and stepped in, shutting and locking it behind me.

"Sorry about the wait, but the pile of evidence in your car had to be thoroughly processed before we could figure out exactly what we needed to ask you. Coffee?"

Sam took one of the Styrofoam cups from the tray Joe had set down on the table. For some reason it had an open box of animal crackers and a sleeve of fig newtons on it. Seemed odd to him, but he didn't mention it. Dean had risen in his own time to the smell of strong black coffee, grabbed one of the three cups, immediately pouring in enough milk to cool it to palatable levels, and downed the whole thing.

"About damn time room service showed up, don't think you're gettin' a tip buddy."

Oh man, I bet this is gonna be great for the peanut gallery watching through the cameras. I took one of the animal crackers, a hippo, and bit the legs off. If he could see my eyes he'd notice I was trying my hardest not to crack up right now, but these sunglasses are pretty dark. I definitely can't see shit, that's for sure. I took a folded napkin out of my pocket and placed it on the table, placing the legless hippo on it.

Without verbally responding to his remark, I pushed the tray towards the two of them. Dean took the sleeve of fig newtowns, ripped it open and started eating them. Not really talking to anyone in particular he just said into the air,

"It's been so long since I'd these things, delicious."

Sam was definitely looking shifty, he kept trying to take covert looks my direction to see if he could read me. When that didn't work he started eyeing around the room nervously, probably looking for the cameras he wouldn't see. They're there, but they are very tiny. He finally broke first,

"I know you're the guy I had in an arm lock. I also know I won't get a second chance at that move on you, especially not in here. So what do you want?"

before I could respond his brother chimed in for me,

"Sammy, have an animal cracker, relax, let this guy play his psyche out mind games as much as he wants. We all know what happened earlier, they need our help. We're not going anywhere anytime soon, but we're not going to jail. They know we're Hunters, remember?"

I decided to join in.

"'Hunters'. As far as I'm concerned your the Neighborhood Watch. And what we don't know, is why you were at that VFW hall."

That seemed to get Dean a little bit, good, not entirely unflappable,

"Of course you know why we were there. To kill those vampires. Which, you're welcome by the way. Sam told me you guys brought garlic? What kind of clown college operation is this anyway?"

It was getting harder to keep my cool, if I was running this interrogation as myself I'd have slammed his head into the table by now. But playing the part is teaching me something. A tad ironic since I'm only doing this because I found an errant pair of sunglasses someplace I shouldn't have been looking for them. Remain calm and carry on.

"Have you ever heard of the Upierczi?"

A puzzled look from Dean. Sam still just looked in equal measure bored and angry. Kind of a resting bitch face situation.

"He's heard of Upierczi, he probably just doesn't remember, because he thinks books are for nerds. The Ordo Ruber. We know about the Red Knights and the holy war. That's not what was in that bar though, and Dean is right. We both know that. So, again, what do you want."

I'm sure Rudy and Circe got a laugh out my Church impression, but the sunglasses were coming off and Joe was coming out to play. I let my face tell them I'm the one who asks the questions as I slowly rose from my chair. Before I could reach out and wring Sam's neck, the door unlocked and opened. My blood turned into ice, I had a pretty good idea who was behind me.

Church's hand reached around and pulled the tray on the table back towards me, placing a box of nilla wafers on it. He picked up his glasses off the table, sliding them in his pocket, already having a backup pair on his face. Pushing the tray back again he just said,

"If anyone is interested."

And proceeded to walk back out of the room, shutting the door, but letting me lock it again from the inside.

When I turned back around I could tell exactly what had just occurred. He'd given me the fright of my fucking life as a way of saying, 'stop that, now.', and simultaneously gotten the Winchesters brains fried just enough to be a little more amicable to my questions. I sat back down and tried again.

"So you know about the Upier, that's what we were after. What in the world did we actually step into back there?"

Sam and Dean looked at each other in a way I think was implying I should be wearing a dunce cap, Dean responded.

"Vampires. Duh."

I was getting annoyed again already, this guy just knows how to push my fucking buttons.

"Enough with the semantics bullshit, call them whatever you like, they're the same thing."

Sam threw his arms up in frustration to punctuate the first part of his response,

"They're not the same thing, that's what we're trying to tell you. Vampires aren't some genetic defect, bred and inbred into complete deformity. They're not human anymore once they turn, it's not natural in any way."

I had to get him on that one, when MindReader was doing it's thing, finding out every detail about these two bozos, we turned up a very interesting series of books by an author named Carver Edlund. We had people going out to find him now, no luck so far.

"So you're saying they're... Supernatural?"

I just let it hang in the air, after trying his best not to, Dean let out a laugh,

"Oh man, trust me, those rags get A LOT wrong. Funny story about the guy who writes them though, he is literally God. Crazy right?"

I had no idea how to respond to that bit of word salad at the end there, so I figured it best to steer back into serious territory.

"Why is an Upierczi hanging out with a nest of 'Vampires' then? They don't seem to have the same agenda at all. What gives? You got an answer for that one smart guy?"

I don't know which one of them I really aimed that at, but Sam took it,

"We didn't actually know there was Upierczi activity at the bar. We went in for Vamps only. Sorry to disappoint, but also your garlic definitely seems less dumb now, I guess this Clown College is a Clown University after all."

Of course Dean laughed with a mouthful of fig newtown, getting some bits onto the table, Sam then laughed at that, and goddamnit, with both of them going, I started laughing too. In mid-guffaw, Dean reached across the table and grabbed me by the lapels, dragging me face first into the tray of cookies and coffee supplies, Sam grabbed my sidearm while Dean got my cuffs and had me locked in a nice and painful cross handed thing before patting me down for other weapons. He found my rapid-release folding knife.

He just took my favorite toy, and is so going to pay for that later.

Sam looked out the small square window at the top of the door into the hallway in both directions.

"Dean, nothing coming, hole up in here or make a break for it?"

Dean snatched the key ring off my belt and tossed it to Sam,

"Gonna make a jailbreak Sammy."

They were out into the rest of the Warehouse in no time. They wouldn't get far, but goddamnit this was the last time I let my guard down around those two bastards. I shouldn't have had my guard down this time. It was a pretty obvious code, they looked right at each other both times, Clown College, Clown University. I like that spy shit, but not when it's used on me.

 

The Warehouse  
Baltimore, MD  
09:20AM

Dean and I had evaded anyone armed so far. Which was weird, I could tell he thought so as well.

Definitely glad I'm the one who grabbed that guy's sidearm, Dean looked pretty anxious being on the run in a military base, from the military, with nothing but fists, feet, and a pocket knife.

Someone was coming down the hallway, we ducked through the first unlocked door we could find, luckily an empty filing room.

"Alright, Dean, let's settle in here for a minute, try and figure out what our next move is."

He looked at me like I'm an idiot, I guess he's about to tell me why,

"Our next and only move is to get the hell out of here. As soon as that person goes passed these doors, we nab 'em, and take 'em out. Move on."

I wanted to argue that murder would not be a great addition to our rap sheet right now, but before I could, the person in the hallway didn't walk passed the doors, they opened them and stepped in.

It was the nilla wafers guy from earlier, an even more imposing figure when he's not holding a box of cookies and IS mightily pissed off. I dropped the gun and put my hands up,

"Our bad, we just didn't know wh-"

And the wind had been kicked out of me, this guy just cleared about twenty feet in a second and had the ball of his foot jammed in my chest. I fell on the ground trying to catch my breath.

Didn't sound like Dean was having much luck either, I heard some pained yelps, but they were all coming from him. At least it sounded like bones weren't breaking, just rubbing against each other in some interesting ways. He was down for the count in a few seconds as well. A team came in and rather roughly cuffed us again.

This time in the interrogation room we stayed cuffed. The guy we just punked for the second time in a row and his Jedi of a boss were now both present, and they definitely weren't offering us any cookies. The big guy spoke.

"I believe you were about to say you didn't know who was detaining you. This is Captain Joe Ledger of the DMS. I am Mr. Church, the head of the DMS. You now know who we are, and you will answer our questions. We are done treating you as guests, my respect for Mr. Singer only goes so far."

Well shit.

 

Interlude 1

VFW Hall  
Lansdale, PA  
6 months ago

The last two customers at the bar were wrapping up an unsuccessful date. The bartender, Greg, could tell the dude had struck out pretty hard. Guys always betray that look of confused psuedo-anger once their back is turned from the departing rejection.

"Hey man, tough luck, how about one on the house to make up for it?"

The guy looked up and a smile crept onto his face,

"Thanks, can always count on you guys to take care of me. Don't think I've met you before, I'm Charlie, a regular around here."

The bartender poured a double of scotch and pushed it forward,

"Yeah, new owners apparently canned most of the staff. Shitty thing to do if I'm honest, but it got me a job. Greg by the way, nice to meet you."

Charlie lifted his glass in salutation, then downed the drink in one gulp.

"Well, here's to bad night ending well, thanks again Greg, hopefully see you around soon."

Greg just smiled, waved, and thought to himself as Charlie walked out the front door,

'Sooner than you think man, way sooner.'

A person, indistinguishable as male or female as we know the terms came out of the shadows behind the bar. Tall, freakishly tall, light grey skin, completely bald, red eyes, and a mouth full of needle-esque teeth.

"How long until your brood have that thing back here?"

Greg didn't like how this liaison to the Upier world called people 'things'. Arguably humans are wildly important in the world of Vampires. They need them to live.

"Only a few minutes, that drink was spiked with GHB, we normally like the thrill of the hunt, but I understand your boss is impatient."

The Upierczi's eyes flared,

"He is my Master! I am to do all he tells me to! This applies to you now as well, and you'd better understand that, quick."

Greg would have preferred less theatrics, but Upier531 was too valuable to give up over an argument over semantics.

"I understand perfectly. I also understand your... our master wanting to maintain anonymity until my brothers and sisters hold up our end of the deal. But why don't I know your name? We're equals in being underlings now, why the secrecy?"

The Upier openly scoffed at the notion of them being equals,

"We are both underlings, but you are nothing to me."

Before Greg could respond, two more Vampires came in through the back kitchen entrance, dragging the unconscious body of Charlie.

The Upier's eyes widened again, but this time in excitement,

"So, one of you bites me, then I feed on him, and it's done?"

Greg rolled his eyes,

"We don't have to actually bite you, just give yourself a cut, and I can rub some saliva on it."

Greg tried to hand The Upier a paring knife, he shoved it away,

"Ritual and procedure are of the utmost importance. If you normally turn people by biting them, than you must bite me, I will not embellish the historical record of this encounter with falsehood. Do as you're told."

Figuring he wanted to hurt this guy anyway, Greg dropped his fangs into view and latched onto The Upier's neck. This did surprisingly little in the way of causing pain or annoyance. The Upier just stood there and took it like it was a booster shot.

The Upier fed on the human's blood, feeling the warm wave of euphoria course through his body. He wondered if this is what drugs felt like to humans. The ways he'd heard heroin described, it seemed a lot like this. The process completed, The Upier threw a large sealed envelope at Greg and started to make his way to the door.

Confused, Greg tore open the envelope and dropped its contents onto the bar. $10,000 in cash. A fine sight, but not what was agreed upon,

"HEY! ASSHOLE!"

Greg's yell paused The Upier in his tracks, who slowly turned around to face the bar again, he let Greg keep going,

"This clearly isn't Upier531, and if you think you can buy us with this pittance, you're sorely mistaken."

The other two vampires started to close in on The Upier, who was aware of their presence, but giving them no mind.

"That is a modest bonus for your troubles. I will return to my brethren and demonstrate to them the new power I have coursing through my being. You will receive your first batch of Upier531 upon my return, as I will also be bringing some friends, for every one of us you turn, you will receive more Upier531."

Greg nodded over to the other Vampires, letting them know to clear the way to the front door. He didn't trust the Upierczi, but the pros more than outweighed the cons here. He made a mental note to check any Upierczi who walked through that door to see if they were actually carrying what they said they were carrying. Cash up front next time, so to speak.

 

Ch. 3

The Warehouse  
Baltimore, MD  
11:15AM

Before they pulled out the thumbscrews and blowtorch, Dean and I decided to get chatty. We all had the same basic idea of what could be going on, a deal being brokered between the Upierczi and Vampires to some mutually beneficial end.

With every angle we could think of on the table, it seemed like we had one likely candidate as 'most plausible'. They were turning each other. Keep their own strengths and also gain the other kind's as well. It made sense, especially with the Upier531, something I'm ashamed to say I was not aware of. Need to get as much on that as I can from these guys, start a file at the bunker.

So here we were, un-cuffed yet again, and cleared for active field duty. The DMS now have personnel files for 'Independent Contractors' Sam and Dean Winchester.

  
The Warehouse  
Baltimore, MD  
11:32AM

I got them outfitted in our standard black BDU's and brought in the crates full of weapons from their car.

Yeah, crates, plural. And these are not small crates.

"Alright, obviously you guys can't haul all this crap around on an op with us, and you are not going to be tailing behind in that loud, obnoxious, muscle car. Pick what you want that can comfortably be carried on your person, along with some extra accoutrements provide by the DMS. And trust me, you're gonna want to make room for them."

Dean immediately dug around for his trusted Colt 1911, Sam the same for his Berreta. Both paused after the obvious choice and really surveyed the ridiculous amount of crazy guns they had at their disposal. Sam stopped on the Knight's Armament revolver rifle, a rare piece but their dad always kept great care of it, so now they did too.

"Joe, you guys got .30 caliber around here or will I have to use my own."

Ha, this guy.

"We got ammo for guns you didn't even know existed. I think we can wrangle some for you, don't worry."

Sam picked up the rifle and laid it on the bench him and Dean were sitting on. Dean had alternatively chosen the M16A2, scooped up a skorpion machine pistol, as well as tossing Sam a Berreta PM12S. He looked none to pleased about it for some reason.

"Really Dean, the guns our Leviathian dopplegangers used to murder a bunch of innocent people."

Dean shrugged,

"I mean, credit where credit's due, they had good taste in firearms."

Yikes, that's a story I'm gonna need to hear some day, have it explained to me so I'll understand it, and then promptly retold.

Sam shook his head and sighed, but still picked it up. They finalized their armaments with a couple knives each. Dean was trying to play it cool that my rapid release folding knife was still clipped to the inside of his pocket. I was hoping he was gonna do the right thing here, but he was going to stand up, so apparently not.

"Alright Joe, I think we're geared up. Time to head out, or, whatever."

I let him get up, but once he was standing I put a hand on his chest,

"Think you still have something that belongs to me."

Man did he look disappointed, I mean, it is a nice knife. In some of the predicaments I've been in, I'm genuinely surprised no one has stolen it from me, bad guy, teammate, or otherwise. Still, he knew he was caught, so he ponied it up.

With a sigh Dean had to ask,

"Dude, where can I get one of those things, I was definitely one hundred percent ready to snake that beauty off you."

Ha, your not that good pal, but nice try, I like the confidence,

"It's a Wilson rapid response XL, they're like three hundred bucks, but honestly, worth every penny. This has saved my life more times than I can count."

His eyes widened at the price,

"Yeah, I think I'll stick with what I've got."

  
The Warehouse  
Baltimore, MD  
11:48AM

Church had called a meeting, he wanted me, John Smith, Sam, and Dean. We walked into the conference room and sat around the table. He was on his MindReader laptop workstation, not yet projecting onto the screen in front of us.

"Dr. Hu and Bug collaborated on a small surveillance project, local assets still in Lansdale launched a handful of sensor packed drones over that VFW hall. There hadn't been any activity until about five minutes ago."

Church started the projector and we could see a heat signature in the bar.

Bent over a corpse.

Trying to feed.

The blurry man-like figure wretched horribly, clutching at it's throat. Eventually falling over backwards dead.

We looked on in silence until Sam had an idea,

"Can we figure out how tall that thing is, at least comparatively to the bodies around it."

It seemed Church knew what he was getting at, I'm pretty sure I did too. If this was a tall boy, that meant we had an Upierczi desperate enough for blood it was feeding from a cold corpse. It wouldn't know any better about what drinking dead man's blood would do to it, so it already made sense.

"He appears to be seven feet and four inches tall, give or take."

Dean cocked his back and looked over at Mr. Church from the screen,

"That's pretty precise for a 'give or take' estimate."

Without giving it a second thought Church very plainly replied,

"Our equipment is very sophisticated."

Before anyone else could get the easy deduction I chimed in,

"So that's definitely an Upierczi. We need to get down there. Now."

Church nodded in my direction,

"I agree Captain. I sent a message to Gus, a helicopter is standing by on the roof, rotors turning. Bug will notify you of any further activity at the VFW Hall on your way there."

I glanced over at the Winchesters, they just got a bomb dropped on them, they've been official members of the DMS for literally minutes, and now it's time for their first official op. They seemed calm and alert. Good. If shit hits the fan for any reason in the field, calm and alert will take you further than panicked and dumb.

 

VFW Hall  
Lansdale, PA  
01:00PM

The chopper had touched down about a half of a mile from the bar. We jogged through the thick forest and arrived where we'd been about ten hours prior. No activity outside, everything seemed quiet. We had no idea how long it would stay that way, so we still needed to hurry. I laid out the plan one last time for the new team, whatever you want to call this bastard offshoot of Echo Team.

"Alright, Chatterbox, as usual you're out here on support. Anything that isn't human tries to get in or out, blow their fuckin' head off."

and I did mean blow it off, we didn't know exactly how the mixed bloodlines would work, what weaknesses they retained, if any, but severing the brain from the spinal column and turning the whole cranium into a fine red mist in the process will kill just about anything. So John Smith and Sam both had a shitload of explosive ammunition for their semi-auto rifles.

"Now you two are with me in the bar. Simple job, get that Upier bastard in a bodybag so we can bring it back for the science team to poke at, try and find any Upier531 and bring it with us, gather any more pertinent intel, and head back to Baltimore. We have backup standing by about seven minutes out if we need it."

John Smith replied with the expected 'Hoo-ah', Sam and Dean didn't really know what to do, so I just led them inside.

The place was rank with the stench of rotten meat, these bodies hadn't been out long, but it'd been long enough. It was easy enough to find the Upierczi sprawled out on the ground. It definitely had a bite mark on its neck that was healing rather poorly, this was our guy. I took a folded up bodybag out of the duffel bag I'd brought along, and tossed it to Sam,

"You guys get him in there and drag him outside, meet me back in here ASAP."

They both nodded and got to work, I went back to the kitchen to check the walk-in fridge and freezer. If they had any Upier531 on hand still, it would need to be kept cold. I checked the refrigerator first, just some outdated stuff no one had bothered to throw away, doesn't even look like this place has served food in quite some time.

Then the freezer.

Jackpot.

Too much for me to carry back in one batch, but putting a dent in their supply like this will let them know someone was here, and we're watching. I filled up the duffel bag with about a third of the stuff, hauling it back out to the front of the bar. Sam and Dean were already back inside and snooping around the bartop area. It looked like they'd found something interesting.

"Hey guys, want to keep me in the loop here?"

Dean held up what looked like some kind of invoice,

"This is bigger than we thought G.I. Joe, looks like this operation has got some serious bankroll, and it ain't local."

I walked over and skimmed the piece of paper, looked like payroll, but the positions had weird titles, Turners and Nabbers. When I got to the bottom, the named signed on the dotted line made my stomach churn. I tapped my earbud twice to get Church's private channel,

"Cowboy to Deacon, you are not going to like this."

 

Interlude 2

Graveyard  
Vatican City  
3 Months ago

In the dead of night, a squad of Upierczi furiously dug at the dirt in front of a small, unmarked, obsidian gravestone. They didn't necessarily want to be doing this, but their orders were their orders, and they dare not cross who had given them. One of them struck wood with their shovel,

"Your holiness, we've reached the coffin."

The priest's eyes lit up in a way only his could, the swirling gold and green of his iris was still clear as day despite the moonless night.

"Good, clear it off and stand aside."

Once again doing as they were ordered, the dirt and detritus were brushed aside from the coffin top, The Upierczi scattered as the priest made his way to the hole and down onto the coffin. He snapped the locks with ease, and flung open the two-part coffin lid. Inside was a man dressed in a grey suit, bolo tie, and a matching cowboy hat laid on his chest. A bottle of scotch and a Cuban cigar lay beside him.

The priest looked at the closest thing he had to what people called a 'friend' and felt nothing. He tossed the cowboy hat aside and placed his hand on the man's heart. Speaking in a language unknown to the ears of any being alive on Earth.

The man started to rouse from his eternal slumber, grey, pallid eyelids struggled to open, short raspy breaths started to whimper out of his lungs. Once life had been fully restored to the man, he sat up, shaking from how cold his internal temperature still was. He grabbed the bottle of scotch, ripped the cork out, and guzzled from it as if his life depended on it. Amber liquid streaming down his chin and onto his shirt. Finally re-hydrated, and a little buzzed, the dead man spoke in his usual thick Boston accent,

"What the fuck took you so long Nicodemus."

The priest smiled, showing his pointed, filthy teeth in the process,

"We had no use for you until now. Your... business minded ways will be helpful from here on out."

The man was stone silent for a moment before erupting into gut busting laughter. Taking another pull off the bottle of scotch, he simply replied,

"You idiots are deep in some scam and you're running low on cash huh. Don't worry, they may not be able to know I'm the one recruiting them, but they're all vetted through and through. I'll give you some names and they WILL be people you can trust."

Nicodemus nodded solemnly,

"Yes, vetted by Vox. That's a phrase the world never thought it'd have to hear again."

 

Ch. 4

VFW Hall  
Lansdale, PA  
01:20PM

There is was, that bastard's John Hancock on a piece of paper, in present day. That shitheel Hugo Vox has slipped out of some pretty hairy situations, but how the fuck is he not dead? My boss killed him, and I saw him get buried. I had to know it was really the end of the line for that douche canoe. Church was back in my earpiece,

"Cowboy, bring that with the Upier531 for verification an-"

A lound emergency tone in my earpiece, I could see Sam and Dean wince from theirs as well. Bug was on the other end,

"Echo Team, or, whatever, loads of heat signatures coming your way. Can't count how many, it's a swarm, they're in the trees so the drones can't make visual contact.

They didn't need to, John Smith had already swung his rifle around and started surveying the forest, he tapped his earbud,

"Chatterbox to all, I have visual, they are about to break the tree line."

Half of them ran for the back entrance while the other half made a b-line for John. He hoisted his rifle onto his back, and slid an oblong carrying pouch from his back around to his chest, unzipped it, and pulled out an FN-P90, firing at the average 'head level' he could make out for the combination Upierczi/Vampires coming his way. Headshots didn't seem to entirely kill them, but it was slamming the front lines back into the ranks, painting them with gore and slowing them down. He got on his earpiece again as the swarm hit the back door,

"Chatterbox to all, head shots do not kill, need to remove the head."

He couldn't get to the kitchen entrance anymore, which unfortunately meant if he wanted to survive, he had to go in through the front while he still had an opening, trapping everyone in the bar. He slid down the rest of the hill on his thigh, firing his submachine gun blindly behind him into the trees. Once John Smith reached the front entrance, he swung into the doorframe, dropped his P90, and raised his rifle again, firing from a standing position and turning the bastards chasing him into headless bodies with his explosive rounds.

We all heard the gunfire from the doorway, relieved that John Smith had made it to the bar alive, but also knowing what that meant. Before I could say anything, Dean broke off from Sam and I to offer John some supporting fire,

"He'll need some full-auto to stagger targets getting too close. You guys got this?"

Without looking away from his sights, Sam replied,

"See ya Dean."

So Sam and I got back to it. I was trying my best to slow down multiple targets with three round bursts to the chest, watching individual heads explode not quickly enough for my liking.

"Sam, if we make it out of this, you are bringing a rifle that holds more bullets next time. And that is a goddamned order."

As if on cue, his six shots were over. Only took a second to slap in another speed-loader, but every second counts when it's four against hundreds. I managed to decapitate a couple with some carefully controlled full auto fire, but we weren't taking them down fast enough. Our backup had been automatically ordered to roll out once Bug delivered the message about the swarm coming, but damn if it didn't feel like they were taking forever.

The good news was that the pile of dead bodies was becoming a natural obstacle for this horde of shitheads, so that would buy us a little time. It also meant I didn't want to do what I should have done already, way earlier, and toss out a grenade. It would take out a few but it would also clear the path for the rest of them.

I heard automatic gunfire split off from the front door and start going around the building,

"Dean to Cowboy and Clownboy, I'm headed your way from outside, don't shoot me. Chatterbox headed to your location from inside, front door is barricaded and I'm bringing the rest of these guys your way, pronto."

I didn't exactly hear John Smith come into the kitchen, he just kind of appeared next to me, and started exploding bloodsucker skulls left and right. The extra firepower already was making a difference. The thunderous crack of rifle fire mixed with the more mid-ranged whine of submachine gun fire was getting louder. Dean couldn't fit in the doorway with the rest of us, so he crouched down to the side of the door, dropped John Smith's P90, and took aim with his M16A2. I followed suit and dropped outside to the other side of the door, giving Sam and John more space to work, you know, actually killing the things.

It really looked like our efforts were going to be in vain. Still so many of them left, even with easily over a hundred corpses scattered in front of us. Pools of red forming between them all drowning the grass. The only way I can even describe the sight is biblical.

The Warrior was in almost full control at this point. In my mind's eye, howling and beating his chest, rubbing the blood of slain enemies into his skin, becoming one with death. My magazine ran dry and I hadn't even noticed, Dean yelled over at me to reload.

I snapped my attention to him and staring back at me was... myself. I saw The Warrior in his eyes, this is a man who enjoys killing as much as I do, and probably would never admit it, just like me as well. That knocked me back into reality, I reached for a fresh clip and came up empty. Dean slid me the P90 and I set to work trying to make the forty or so rounds left in it last.

Dean shouted out he was on his last clip, Sam and John seemed to still have ammo, but it couldn't be much. As I heard the last of the shell casings zing out of the P90's ejection port, the familiar and much welcomed whine of helicopter rotors started to come in over the trees. One of our ultra stealth black choppers came into view and immediately turned it's side door towards us,

"Bunny to all, Get your asses inside now! I'm about to light this motherfucker up!"

We obviously did as we were told, ran back inside, slammed the door shut, and took positions in the interior kitchen doorway leading to the main area of the bar. If anything made it inside we'd still have to deal with it.

Not that anything would. The deafening racket of a mounted minigun underscored by the wet snaps and meaty thuds of bodies being turned into mincemeat was all anyone could hear, inside or outside the bar. After a solid two minutes of fire, the world became an eery silence pierced only by the ringing in our ears. Once I felt confident enough in hearing my own voice to speak properly, I reported back to Bunny,

"Cowboy to Bunny, we all clear?"

A slight pause, I could hear heavy breathing but not much else,

"Cowboy to Bunny. Do you read me?"

He'd come back down from what must have been a giant adrenaline rush and responded,

"Sorry Cowboy, yeah, all clear, we're touching down to pick you up. Your chopper is already on the way back to The Warehouse."

The chopper touched down, and we all got on board, bringing the dead Upierczi, the Upier531, and that invoice. Once we were in the air and comfortably cruising, I took the invoice out of a pouch on my belt and showed it to Bunny. He did not respond well.

"Fucking seriously Joe? Church put bullets in him, personally, you're telling me the big man screwed up that bad? No way. This is a trick. It has to be. Fuck me."

I really wanted to believe that, but he'd already started treatment on Upier531 and been on it for awhile by the time Church got to him. If that somehow mattered, I'm glad we left those things in a puddle instead of a heap. I don't need pissed off, re-animated, hybrid Vampire, Upierczi fuckers coming after me. I mean jesus, that's just too much of a mouthful to even say every time you find one. We need a better name, something I'm sure we can worry about later.

 

  
Ch. 5

The Warehouse  
Baltimore, MD  
04:00PM

Dean and I each had separate quarters assigned to us, across the hall from each other, but right now we were each decompressing in our own ways, and knew that the other would need space. We'd both seen action of that magnitude before, both in this reality and alternate ones we'd been privy to visiting, but every time it's still a huge adrenaline dump. I'm sure he had at least one beer open by now, if not a bottle of bourbon. Echo Team, which we supposed we were 'official' members of for now, was put on the back burner, Jackal Team were now at the ready for the next operation. Whenever that came in.

That meant, much like I presumed Dean was doing, I had a drink poured. Unlike Dean, I was busy re-familiarizing myself with the Upierczi. I've only known about them in theory, they're a pretty localized bunch. After getting caught up with the after-action reports of DMS personnel regarding the Upier, it started to make more sense that they were trying to expand their territory. And the level of sinister this Hugo Vox character is became a lot clearer.

I skimmed through the redacted version of the DMS 'Seif-Al-Din' file I had clearance for, I know this wasn't Joe's first experience with re-animation. But it still seemed to bug him that Dean and I just took it at face value when he told us Hugo Vox had been, one hundred percent, absolutely, watched him get buried in the ground dead. So someone had to have literally brought him back to life.

I mean, I was like, 'Yeah, that happens sometimes'. And the look he gave me was just, I don't even know how to describe it, a mix of absolute hate and utter confusion.

Still poring over the Upierczi notes, I was getting the back story, but not making any new conclusions. Not wanting to break our 'me time' barrier too much, I texted Dean.

'Hey man, real quick question. You think Vox being Upier is important w/ the resurrecting? If so, think Bobby might know anything we don't?'

A few minutes went by, I was telling myself he just didn't see it yet, but I have a feeling he was, busy, with his laptop. Finally, a response.

'idk call him and see bitch'

Fair enough,

'Jerk.'

And a phone call to Bobby later, nothing he has says Upierczi have any sort of resurrection abilities. It takes one hell of a spell to bring someone as dead as Hugo Vox was back to life. So still nothing. I closed my laptop, stretched out on the bed and turned on Netflix, Dean and I had spoiled ourselves at the bunker with streaming services, thanks credit card fraud, and it was nice to see the DMS did the same. Though I'm sure in a much more above board way of course.

Just had to wait for the science team to do the multitude of tests they needed to do, specifically on the corpse we'd brought in, plus some... fragments... of others airlifted in from the VFW Hall.


End file.
